The Colonel Vs The Parson's Flu
by pastorannie
Summary: Colonel John Casey is sent into Libya to assassinate Khadaffi, but his two week long vigil within the walls of Khadaffi's residence comes to an unexpected and violent end.
1. Chapter 1

The Colonel Vs. The Parson's Flu

Chapter 1: In the Dark, Shadows Move

He was holed up once again in the dank, dusty walls of a Libyan embassy. His mission, off the grid of the official "United States" government higher ups, was to go in and assassinate Khadaffi. The N.S.A's best crack shot, Col. John Casey, was stymied by the constant traffic and security, and he was unable to sneak out of the walls and into the vast corridors of Khadaffi's main residence. For two weeks, he pushed and tiptoed through the large stucco walls, relieving himself in a small hole he had made, eating when he could. The spiders and other vermin that lived within the walls seemed startled when they saw the large, dust covered human rummaging covertly around in the walls with them. They eyed him warily and then skittered on without a second bother. His only discomfort was an occasional stomach spasm, which he attributed to the ready to eat meals he had to consume. Often, in the dark, the Colonel remembered the delicious dinners his new friend, Parson Annie Coburn made for him on every Wednesday evening before her studies with her congregation. Hot, filling, comfort food. Homemade fried chicken, dill pickle potato salad, and for dessert, triple chocolate brownies. Especially tonight, Casey felt a little homesick. It was his second Wednesday away from the Pacific Northwest, and from Annie. And, unfortunately, the M.R.E. this night was supposed to be fried chicken, but the gray matter in the foil looked nothing like his sweet Parson's chicken. Just as he forced himself to eat once more bite, his stomach spasm horrifically and before he could stop, he vomited violently several times.

The next sound he heard was a cocking of a large Glock right outside the wall he was in, and several shots were fired into the wall. Two shots flew high and dust rained down on the Colonel. Swiftly he tried to dodge the bullets and slide out of the way, but one bullet entered his right thigh, exiting through his thigh muscle and into the wall behind him. He yelped convulsively, and tried to pull himself away from the soldier on the other side. The pistol fired one more time, and hit the Colonel's left shoulder, burying itself deep in his deltoid muscle, an explosion of searing, hot pain. He groaned again, this time louder, and once more, he vomited violently on the dirt floor in front of him, covering a large scorpion with his stomach contents. The walls seem to close in and his last memory before he fell unconscious was watching the poor scorpion writhe in his body fluids until it moved no longer.


	2. Chapter 2: The Gift of Sharing

The Colonel Vs. The Parson's Flu

Chapter 2: The Gift of Sharing-Two Weeks Before the Libyan Mission

Chuck Bartowski was whistling as he entered the Buy More for his early morning shift. He high-fived the tall, red headed kid, and waved at Bunny, the quiet bookkeeper behind the administration desk. The next two people he ran into made him walk a little slower, a little less happy, but he was determined to not let Jeff and Lester upset his good mood. After all, he woke up in the arms of the C.I.A.'s most beautiful agent Sarah Walker, and she had recently said yes to his proposal. With a morning like that, even the infamous Jeffster would not sideline his good mood.

He came behind the Nerd Herd desk and spoke his hellos to the two men, as he stored his shoulder bag under the desk. Jeff was looking a little green, but Chuck chose to overlook that color. Jeff often looked green, either from sucking the chloroform in his locker, to drinking a secret hootch he and Lester cooked up in the still behind the mounds of outdated computer guts in the back storage room. Lester had his arm around Jeff, a concerned look upon the Indian's face.

"Jefferson, how many times do I need to tell you not to eat the green leftovers from the company refrigerator? We don't know how long they have been there, and ..." Before Lester could continue, Jeff bent over and violently vomited onto the floor, splashing his stomach contents onto Chuck's Converse shoes.

"Good God, Jeff, get out of here and into the bathroom in the back, before you hurl on a customer." Morgan Grimes commanded, coming up running, to find out what had happened. Lester grabbed his friend, and tried to point him toward the bathrooms. The last sound Morgan and Chuck heard was Jeff hurling again in the aisle by the large appliances, the area Casey was responsible for.

Chuck was gagging slightly as he tried to clean his shoes off with a service rag under the Nerd desk. "Hey, buddy, you better get back to the lavatory and wash your hands off. You never know how nuclear Jeffrey's stomach contents are." Morgan warned his friend, who nodded vigorously and limped quickly back to the restroom. He stopped, though, when he continued to hear the horrific noise of Jeff's illness. Chuck debated for only a few seconds, and he knocked boldly on the women's bathroom.

"Come on in, Chuck." A woman's voice rang out, making Chuck hesitate. He cautiously opened the door and saw the new Greta washing her hands. "I saw what happened to that clown Jeff, so here, you're welcomed to come and wash up." She beaconed him in, and grinned at the shoe's discoloration. "I wonder if you could get Corporate to get you a new pair. You could always tell the General it happened in the line of duty." She smiled widely, and patted his shoulder as she left. Chuck grinned in spite of the situation; he really liked this new Greta. Efficient, calm, but warmer in her demeanor than many of the Gretas in the past, this one seemed to enjoy her job there at the Buy More just as much as her undercover spy work. As Chuck tried valiantly to remove his shoe, the bathroom door flew open and the commanding presence of John Casey filled the door frame. Chuck's hand slipped, his fingers dipping into the glob of vomit on the shoes, and he flicked the stuff quickly all around the air. His shoe fell into the sink, and he began to hop all over the place on one foot.

"Stop, you numb nuts. You are going to get that garbage all over this bathroom. I already had to call janitorial to come clean up my aisle that Jeff so daintily chose to hurl all over. Two Beast Masters and three refrigerators plus the floor have now been baptized by that creep." Casey grabbed Chuck's flailing arm, and began to thrust Bartowski's hands under the hot water, soaping up both their sets of hands and scrubbing the vomit off Chuck's until his skin was raw. "I will kill those two one of these days." Casey grumbled as he argued with Chuck, who was insisting that he could wash his hands effectively. "I will kill them efficiently and effectively, and no one will find their bodies." Casey manhandled Chuck again over to the towel dispenser, and began to pull numerous towels out, passing them to his charge to wipe.

"Casey, I can do this. I am a grown man." Chuck pulled away from his handler, who handed him two small envelopes. "Use these, Mr. Grown Up" Casey ordered, as he too opened the antiseptic packages and scrubbed his hands vigilantly. "I used these that time I was holed up in the walls, and I never came down with any illness." Casey got a faraway look in his eye, fondly remembering his covert operation last month.

"Now, buddy, as I remember, you almost got shot on that mission, and your arm was caught in the busted beam. EEWW!" Chuck groaned as he looked at the ruined shoe in the sink. Casey grunted in annoyance at Chuck's reminder of the long scar now on Casey's left arm, and batted Chuck's hand away from the shoe.

"Hey, that costs me a pretty penny." Chuck argued as Casey thrust him towards the door. "Get Corporate to issue you a new pair, Bartowski. All in the line of duty." Casey rumbled, and as he pushed Chuck through the doorway toward their lockers, Greta was standing guard in the hallway. She winked at Casey, and tried to look empathetically at the Intersect, limping in his stocking feet, besides the imposing 6 foot 4 inch N.S.A. Agent. Casey nodded at her, his lips curling slightly up, as he realized she had heard him repeating her advice for Chuck's missing shoe. He gave Chuck one more push toward the locker room and Greta returned to the Buy More store floor.

Two days later, Sarah Walker was wakened in the middle of the night by a strange sound coming from their bathroom. Chuck's side of the bed was empty, and by the cool sheets, had been empty for several hours. She berated herself for not being on alert, but her concern for Chuck drove her to open the door of their bathroom. There she found Chuck, exhausted, bent over the toilet, currently vomiting up his toe nails.

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	3. Chapter 3

The Colonel Vs. The Parson's Flu

Chapter 3: The Brownie Revolt

Pastor Annie Coburn had just returned back to her job as a pastor of a small, caring, community of faith in the Pacific Northwest. Normally a healthy woman, she had come down with a horrendous flu bug, and was only now able to shake it and get back to work. She approached her study door cautiously, expecting a large amount of mail to be piled among her Bible and associated other books she needed to read. She and her secretary had waded through the 26 voice mails, and now she sighed deeply and began the long, arduous task of wading through the flyers for the next big church growth conference, and free pen offers. Time and again she threw stuff away, or filed it for her secretary to deal with. However, on the bottom of the stack, there were two pieces of mail from Burbank, California. She recognized the careful scrawl of her new friend, Colonel John Casey, and she smiled at the thought of upcoming Wednesday meals she shared with him. Putting it aside, so she could concentrate on it, she reached for the other letter, emblazened with the green logo of Buy More. Puzzled, she slipped her envelope opener in it and began to read:

_Pastor Annie:_

_Thank you for the triple chocolate brownies I found in the refrigerator this past week. They were delicious. _

_Sincerely, _

_Jeffrey Barnes_

_P.S. Send more_

Pastor Annie laughed out loud at the concise but very direct note, and then frowned. She remembered making the brownies as a surprise for John Casey the last time she was down visiting him. When he had gone in for his regular shift, she had surprised him with the delicious desserts, baking a double batch for his freezer and and for work. Slipping a large Tupperware container filled with brownies into John's brown bag, had brought a huge smile to the other wise reserved military man, and a wonderfully, promising kiss for Annie. But later, when they went out for dinner that night, they had to cut it short, as Annie got violently ill in the restaurant's rest room.

By the time Annie was wrapped in warm, fluffy comforters and hydrated with chicken broth and Theraflu, she was shivering violently, and her abdominal muscles were aching from throwing up. As Casey gently tucked her into the huge king size bed in his guest room, she peaked out from under the covers, a few tears leaking out of her eyes.

"John, I ruined our time together. I am so sorry." Annie sniffled, and nodded her thanks when John passed her some Kleenex. He looked at her intently, his cobalt blue eyes soft and caring, and then sat down beside her on the bed. He reached out for her, and brought her into his massive arms, shushing her and rocking her softly, humming in his rich baritone, "Hush, Little Baby, Don't You Cry." In spite of her illness, Annie giggled at the choice of songs which was sort of a code of comfort for them both, and she relaxed and breathed in the delightful smell of his aftershave and a hint of gun oil.

John released her, and again tucked her into bed. "Anytime, anywhere, we are together, Annie", he reached up to her face and tucked a strand behind her ear, softly caressing her skin. He dropped his hands, and sighed, "I am happy. Content. Besides, you bring color into my life."

"Yeah, right, Colonel, a lot of green puke." Annie groaned, as she burrowed deeper into the bed.

Casey laughed easily and then slapped her leg. "Got to check in with the General." As he stood, she caught his hand, caressing the calloused fingers of his right hand.

"Will you come back, just to be here with me?" Annie asked quietly, hoping that she would not have to spend the lonely hours of her illness without his vigilance. He nodded, and bent once more to place a kiss on her forehead. "Vaya con Dios, John."

"Vaya con Dios, Parson." He rose again and the last thing she remembered was him gently closing the bedroom door. Only once in the night did she wake, and found him snoring lightly in the easy chair beside her bed, his gun on the night stand, and her open Bible on his chest.

Back in her office, Pastor Annie began to realize something very strange. The brownies she had so lovingly prepared for John had somehow ended up with Jeff. The last phone call she had from Casey, he had told her all about Jeff's uncontrollable vomiting all over John's area at the Buy More. Annie began to get an uncomfortable feeling about the making of those brownies. Somehow, her illness had been communicated to Jeffrey, and as a result he had made both Chuck and John pay. Just as she was grabbing her phone to call Casey, her eyes dropped to the small envelope with his handwriting. She opened it quickly, and began reading his words, scanning for any other information she needed.

_Parson:_

_I find myself in need of writing my words out on paper, instead of calling you. I will be "out of town" for at least two weeks, and I need you to know that when I return, I hope I will find you singing "As A Deer" with your warm, delicious brownies. _

_You are in my thoughts._

_J.C._

Annie frowned at the cryptic note, realizing John's use of secrecy in informing her of his whereabouts. What troubled her was the reference to the song. The only time she sand that song to him was when she was nursing him through a car wreck and through a whipping he had received at the hands of old enemies. Something was happening to the colonel and he had expected some type of repercussion from his new mission. Annie changed her dialing destination, and instead dialed Chuck Bartowski's number.

The phone rang at least three times, and then a groggy, grumbling voice answered, "hmmm?" Chuck's voice grumped, and in spite of herself, Annie giggled at the sound.

"Chuck, is that you? It's Pastor Annie. Are you all right?"

She heard some wrestling sound in the background, and then Sarah Walker's voice came on. "Pastor Annie? Is everything ok?"

"First is Chuck all right?" Annie listened intently to Sarah and tried to gauge the tone of her voice.

"He has the flu, Annie. It's been frankly, very bad. He is throwing up and the headaches are tripping the Intersect onto flashes that are not making sense. Seems Jeff gave Chuck the bug" Sarah stopped, pulling the phone away and trying to shush Chuck who had groaned, "I will kill Jeffrey Barnes, as soon as I can walk."

"Pretty bad, huh. Oh dear, Sarah, it's my fault." Annie gasped as she began to put the connections together.

"Your fault? What in the world do you mean, Annie?"

"I made brownies for John the last time I was there."

Sarah nodded, and laughed gently. "He talked about those brownies for three days, Annie. But he said they had disappeared from the refrigerator at work."

"That's what I was afraid of. I made the brownies the day I got sick down there, and Jeff must have got the bug from the brownies. Now, he gave it to Chuck and it's all my fault. I am so sorry." Annie paused and sighed heavily.

The phone line was quiet for a moment, and then Sarah gasped. "Oh, Lord, Chuck said Casey helped clean him up when he got sick at the Buy More. That means Casey's got the flu."

"That's who I need to talk to, Sarah. I just opened a note he wrote to me last, here let me see," Annie checked the postmark. "2 days ago. And he told me that he would be out of town for two weeks, and he wanted me to sing him "As A Deer" when he got back."

"I'm sorry, Annie, but that sounds ok."

"Sarah, that's our code. He was leaving on a mission that he expected physical harm to himself. I know I have no right to ask, but pastor confidentiality allows me to ask, is he gone?"

The phone line was quiet, and Sarah breathed deeply. She knew that General Beckman had cleared the Pastor, and Annie was aware of John Casey's true identity. But Sarah was uncertain how Annie would react if she knew where Casey was, and what he was doing.

"Sarah?" Annie questioned again. "Where is John, and why would he be expecting to be hurt?"

"He is on mission, Annie." Sarah heard the huge sigh from the pastor. "He has been out of contact for two days, and we do not know his current location or condition. Annie, may I tell the General about John's note? I think the intel he told you may help us find him. Just know that we will do everything in our power to locate him and...retrieve him a.s.a.p." Sarah tried to reassure this new friend who had brought many smiles to her stoic partner.

"Thank you, Sarah for not lying to me. I will pray deeply for his safety. You know how to contact me. Again, thank you Sarah." Annie's words were shaking, but her voice was strong.

"Tell Chuck to get well, ok? I'll bring some brownies back soon."

"Annie, just bring yourself down as soon as we get John back. He will need you." Sarah hung up gently, and then pecked Chuck's cheek. She rose quietly, left the bedroom and teleconferenced the General with the news of Annie's note.

The smell was what first hit him. Hot, fetid, smells of barbeque meats, urine and sweat. His stomach lurched once more, and he tried to move off the mat he was lying on. Pain riveted through his left shoulder, and he gasped grabbing at it, falling back down on the mat. He knew his right leg was immobilized and as he tried to open his eyes, the blinding sunlight through the window caught him off guard. He grunted, trying to rise up and move, but gently hands reached out and pushed him back.

"Easy does it, Colonel." The lilt of the Arabic tongue rolled out of the man seated next to the Colonel. The hands then laid a cool clothe on the wounded man's forehead, and the stranger switched languages.

"You are safe, Colonel. Yes, I know who you are." Casey lurched up, again trying to escape but the pain ramped too high for him to move any faster. The stranger reached for a bottle of water, opened it, and offered it to the wounded soldier. Casey eyed the stranger warily, at first mistrusting the man intensely. But the next statement the stranger said calmed the big man down, and allowed him to concentrate on the words.

"Indeed, Colonel. Your General Beckman and I go a long way back." The stranger chuckled lightly, reaching for a morphine stick from his first air box. "Yes, My name is Ahman Remington, and Diane was my first wife."

He shot the pain killer into Casey's left shoulder and then checked the bandage on his right leg.

"And I believe I shot you, Colonel."


	4. Chapter 4 The Return Home

The Colonel Vs. the Parson's Flu

Chapter 4: The Return Home

"You shot me?" Colonel John Casey glared at the Arab man before him. Casey heaved himself up and before Remington could blink, had plowed his fist in the Arab's nose. Casey grinned manically as he heard the tip of the cartilage snap, and he took a great delight in the amount of blood was currently spewing from Remington's face. Unfortunately, Casey's own blood loss prevented him from following through, and he fell back onto the cot. The dark skinned man had flown across the tent, onto his back, groaning and cursing Casey, while he looked frantically for something to stuff up the nostrils. Remington reared up from the floor, flipped the safety off of his Glock, and before Casey could prevent it, a loaded pistol was pressed under Casey's chin.

"Stand down, Colonel." Remington's blazing, dark eyes glared at Casey, as he pressed harder into Casey's jugular. "Stand down, soldier, I said, or I will directly disobey my first wife, your General, and blow your head off." He waited, until Casey blinked, and relaxed his body. Remington pulled back slowly, distrusting this large, violent American before him.

"She told me you had a mean right hook. Should have remembered that, Colonel." Remington put the safety back onto his pistol, and placed it back into his robes. He stood and looked down at the man he was supposed to lead to safety. Remington took deep breathes, and then turned and pointed toward a computer setting on a low table across from Casey.

Casey tried to focus on the screen, and the familiar face of his General was staring at him. He tried to rise to salute her, but his leg gave out and only Remington's catching him prevented him from crashing face first into the tent's floor.

"Colonel, at ease. Lay down, John. Ahman has updated me as to your wounds, and he also has assured me he will not shoot you again." At this statement, Casey grunted in disbelief. Remington looked at him angrily, but they both reverted their eyes back to the General.

"We are unable to get a helicopter to your location, Colonel, since there has been heightened Al Quaida activity in the hills around Ahman's residence. You need to move with Ahman into a safer location before we can pick you up."

"What about my mission, ma'am? I need to complete what I came here for, what I lived in the walls for two weeks for." Casey seemed a little disappointed at not being able to kill someone or something.

"Stand down, Colonel. The higher ups are in great debate over the target of your mission, so there is no longer a kill order. You need to get the hell out of there and get home. Ahman, do you have the arrangements in order?" The General kept her tone professional, and Remington's face did not reveal any tenderness toward her. He nodded curtly, and then glanced at the wounded American.

"When shall we leave, General?" Remington asked.

"A.S.A.P., Ahman. Colonel, can you move?" The General looked at Casey, her face softening a bit as she assessed his oozing shoulder wound, and the immobilized leg. Again, Casey stood slowly, reeling slightly, and stiffened his back.

"Now, General." He said. Off to his left he heard Ahman grunt his disapproval, but Casey stared right at the General. He continued to stand, holding his breath, willing the seering pain to the back of his brain, until they exchanged salutes. As soon as she signed off, Casey wilted, and again Remington grabbed him and held him tightly until the room quit spinning.

"Are all you Americans this pig headed? You are just like Diane, Colonel." Ahman lowered the big man again to the cot, and shot both his shoulder and leg with more morphine. He then threw him a candy bar. "Here,Colonel, eat up. We move out in 15 minutes." Remington stayed for a few seconds to see if Casey was obeying him, and seemed pleased that the candy bar was rapidly disappearing.

15 minutes later, Casey was also attired in traditional Arabic robes, his face covered with a cloth wind shield, a turban pulled onto his head. He also had his Sig back, compliments of Remington, loaded, and ready. Remington returned, and the two of them walked gingerly outside into the arid, scorching, sunlight, Casey's back rim rod straight, determination and pain etched into his strong face. He would only allow Remington to guide his arm, but Ahman took it slow, trying not to show too much concern for the proud soldier. Outside, a family member had the only transportation they had, and it was kneeling on all fours, chewing its cud.

"That is your arrangements you mentioned to the General?" Casey growled, pointing at the camel who cast a evil eye toward the soldier.

"Colonel, I understand you served two terms in Irag, and 3 in Afghanistan. Don't give me any bull about my Cadillac of transportation." Remington spoke sharply, but his black eyes were twinkling and before he spoke again, Casey already had mounted the animal and scooted forward to accommodate Remington. "A.S.A.P. Remington, the General ordered." Casey grinned at the man, but his eyes showed the deep pain he was still in. Remington mounted the camel and sat tightly behind Casey, wrapping his arms around Casey's waist and gathering the reigns from the beast's bridal. A few words in Arabic and the beast lurched up and forward, and the two men, so strangely different, yet linked into an unexpected bond, rode through the hills, toward safety.

They had moved over several miles before Remington began to notice that Casey was grunting louder and louder with every sway. The soldier's once rigid body was drooping, and his head was falling to his heaving chest. Remington spoke again to the beast, and it surprisingly obeyed and stopped, gently falling to its fours. He alit first, his hands reaching for the big American. Casey nodded slightly, and took his help, but as soon as Remington's hands left his body, Casey collapsed to all fours and vomited onto the sand. Each time he heaved, he grunted in pain, trying to hold his shoulder, and ease off of his right leg. Remington returned to the camel, threw a few handfuls of hay at the camel, and brought a canteen to Casey.

"Colonel, lie down." Remington ordered, a little surprised that Casey rolled over. Ahman opened Casey's tunic and stared down at the open wound, now leaking blood at an alarming rate. He went for the first aid kit again, and ripped the tunic open to further inspect the wound. He threw off the wet, blood filled gauze and opened the alcohol bottle. "Ready?" he looked down at the American, who only nodded and then lurched upward as Ahman poured the alcohol over the wound.

"Dear God in heaven," Casey seemed to pray rather than swear, his chest heaving, his eyes full of tears. "Again" he demanded, and Ahman poured more into the inflamed wound. Casey arched up again, and cried out. "Annie, God, help me." He moaned and fell back onto the sand. Remington patched the wound up as much as he could, and once more he shot morphine into the muscle. He put the arm in a sling, and then inspected the leg. Though bleeding slightly, the leg seemed not to be infected and he informed the Colonel who only nodded. Remington shot one more stick into the leg, and then sat very still to watch the Colonel whose great will was slowly earning Remington's respect.

"How much further?" Casey had managed to push the pain away again, and Remington helped him sit up and take a drink from the canteen. Ahman reached into his satchel and pulled a G.P.S. Meter out. Casey seemed a little surprised at this man who traveled by tradition and yet lived so easily with technology. Within a few seconds Remington had the correct coordinates they needed, and this time Casey needed the Arab's help to get on the camel, who spat a wad of phlegm and green hay at them, angry for disturbing her meal. Remington spoke harshly to the animal, who begrudgingly obeyed him, rising again to saunter off to the rendezvous point.

A half hour later, several men, also riding camels, came up to the temporary camp of Casey and Remington. They spied the empty morphine sticks, the alcohol bottle, and the blood soaked gauze and showed the items to their leader. He smiled widely, and spoke in Arabic "We shall catch up, brothers to these traitors and we shall kill them." The men mounted up, screaming their approval and commanding their animals to a full gallop.

Casey and Remington came around the last hill, thankful to see the Huey helicopter waiting for them.

Remington urged the beast forward but the chopper blades frightened it and it refused to go any further.

"Bloody beast," Remington cursed again, and then helped Casey to get off the animal. But as they began to walk toward the plane, they heard the sounds of the approaching men behind them. "Colonel, run like hell." Remington pulled on Casey's right arm, and Casey began to swing his leg quickly and they attempted to run to the chopper. The pilot rushed out also, and helped Casey up first. Casey looked up, right into the eyes of his younger brother, Major Chad Shelton, who grinned widely. "Well, big brother, I never can seem to loose you, even in Libya."

Casey grunted his hello, but gave his brother a squeeze of his hand. Chad hurried around to the pilot seat, and began to ramp up the speed of the rotors. Bullets from the band of terrorists were pinking off the Huey, and Shelton yelled "Remington, get your butt in here now."

As Ahman raised himself up into the chopper, suddenly a flash of fire hit the back of his left leg. He collapsed, crying out in pain. Casey reached down, and with both arms, pulled the Arab into the chopper. "Now, Major, Now." Casey ordered, and he knelt to stop the flow of blood streaming down Ahman's leg. His pain forgotten, Casey ripped Ahman's tunic into a tourniquet and bound the leg tightly right above the leg wound. The roar of the chopper accelerated and the huge bird rose swiftly into the air and flew off into the distance.

Remington's eyes were shut, his chest heaving. "Ahman, you ok?" Casey inquired, and the Arab looked up in surprise at the American, wondering why Casey had chosen to use his first name. He nodded and then the two of them buckled into the seats, and put the head phones on. He looked at Casey closely, and then stared at the pilot, whose square jaw, cobalt blue eyes, and brown, chocolate hair was identical to Casey's. "Younger brother, Colonel?" he asked, and before Casey could reply, the pilot said, "Yeah, sir, he's my much older brother." Shelton grinned as Casey growled at him, and then his eyes showed a look of concern as Casey finally revealed the depth of his pain, his eyes rolling up into his head, and he watched in the rear view mirror as both Remington and his much older brother passed out.

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	5. Chapter 5

The Colonel Vs. The Parson's Flu

Chapter 5 Heroes of the Heart

"Dear God in Heaven...Annie...God help me." Pastor Annie Coburn heard the voice through the night, whispering on the edges of her sleep. She bolted upright, calling out; "John, is that you?" She was back in her rural town, and had tried to keep close contact with Chuck and Sarah as to Casey's whereabouts.

Now, awakened by the insistent whispers in her mind, she grabbed her bath robe and threw the bed covers back. Slipping her floppy bunny slippers on, she began a careful search around her small apartment. But there was no voice mails on the land line, and no one in the apartment. She checked the security pad, installed by a very insistent Marine Colonel, and then she stopped suddenly, caressing the pad he has spent an entire weekend to install, just so she would feel safe. She sighed deeply, realizing that the more time she spent with the Colonel, the better and deeper their love was becoming. They were so different. A great woman of faith, Annie was a people person, someone who held a dying elder's hand at the hospital. Driven by God, honor, and duty, Colonel John Casey was never a people person, could care less if you liked him or not. And yet when they were together, something rich and meaningful happened. Casey become somehow softer, still a man of incredible will and strength, but a heart that was far deeper than many would even imagine. Annie was becoming stronger in her gifts and her leadership, and his companionship had filled the hole left by the death of her husband over two years ago from agent orange related cancer.

Annie began one last surveillance of her apartment, grabbing a glass of milk to calm down. However, she just couldn't shake the insistence deep within her core that something was happening to Casey. She flip flopped back to her bedroom and locked that door also. She threw off her robe, and hopped back in, reaching for her cell phone. While debating whether to call Sarah and Chuck, the phone's I. sprang up and Bartowski's loopy grin was looking at her.

"Chuck, is that you?" Annie asked, almost breathlessly.

"Annie, it is me. I'm sorry to wake you at this hour, but we have some news. We found Casey."

"Oh, dear Lord, thank you. Is he alright? I just feel that something's very wrong with him."

Chuck paused, trying to think of the gently way he could break the news about Casey's condition.

"Annie, he is out and in Germany right now. He has been injured," Chuck heard the parson gasp so he continued slowly and calmly, "but the doctors in Frankfurt are patching him up and he is due back in Los Angeles late tomorrow afternoon. Annie, John needs you. Will you come back to Burbank?"

"Of course, Chuck. I will call my board of elders and let them know I need some personal time. I have an associate pastor now, and I'll also call her to take over my responsibilities while I am gone. I'll call the airlines for a …."

"No, Pastor, the General is sending a helicopter up to pick you up in four hours. We understand that you have a small airport that has one paved runway. The pilot will pick you up there, if you can drive to meet him. I am sorry for the short notice, but will you come? I think we all need your special touch of ..." Chuck gulped, as his own concern for his N.S.A. Handler came out. "We need your love, Annie. This has been by far, the most difficult time for all of us here at home. We need Team Bartowski back intact."

"Of course, Chuck. Tell the General thank you for the helicopter, and I will be there. Chuck, I love you all. He will be all right, once we get him home."

"Yes, he will" Chuck spoke more confidently and the line went dark. Annie sprang up, pulled her luggage out and began to pack hurriedly and efficiently. She giggled, as she remembered one weekend when Casey had insisted that he would teach her how to pack efficiently and quickly for any emergency. Each time she thought she had done a good job, he came back into the bedroom, turned the luggage over, and dumped it out again, grinning at her the entire time. "Parson, again. You are still taking up too much room with too little." By the fifth time, Annie was stewing, but her luggage was Marine perfect. John had then taken her out to a romantic dinner on the riverfront, and by the time he had kissed her goodbye to return to Burbank, she had forgiven him. Now, Annie took pride in her packing, and knew this time, John would not overturn the suitcase.

Satisfied, she began to contact her chairman of the council and her associate pastor to clear for leave. She threw out any food that would spoil in the garbage can outside, and hauled her luggage out to her gray Beetle bug. One more search of the apartment, and she locked it up, setting Casey's security measures. Starting up her diesel Beetle Bug was a little slow in the early morning cold, but by the time the windows were defrosted, Annie was ready to make the flight back down to the man she knew she was falling in love with.

By the time she had reached the airport, the transport was waiting for her near the runway. She ran in to wake the airport owner, and he was paid to babysit her car. The pilot had alit from the chopper, and was running to meet her to take her luggage. But she dropped the suitcase when she looked up at the familiar 6 foot 4" frame.

"Dear Lord Jesus, John?" Annie gasped as she stopped and stared at the familiar face.

"No, Pastor, he's just my older brother. My name is Major Chad Shelton, ma'am. Here let me take your bags." As Annie continued to stare at John's brother, she noticed that certain small facial differences, and that he was several pounds lighter. Gingerly, she was helped into the chopper, buckled up, and then Chad passed her the head phones. He grinned brightly at her, and then began to rev up the rotors of his bird. As the lights of her small town began to sparkly like tiny crystals, the ground falling away, Annie turned her face to the east at the newly rising sun, and prayed to her Lord for the health of the man she loved so far away.

John Casey and Ahman Remington were seated on a private plane on the way to the Los Angeles airport, Casey's right leg now in a walking cast, his shoulder set and in a sling. He was nodding off and on in the plane, very thankful that he did not have to return on a regular military plane. The Arab was sitting across from him, enjoying a glass of wine, and staring out of the plane. His left leg was also in a cast, their wounds a result of their mission in Libya. Remington knew he would face hell from General Beckman, his first wife, for endangering her prized N.S.A. agent, and frankly he was a little anxious as to the result of her rage. He gulped the last of the wine down, looking at the Marine seated across from him. This past week the dangers they had shared had somehow bridged their dislike of each other, and they both carried a level of deep respect for each other.

A Marine private came into their cabin, waking Casey and informing them that they would be arriving in L.A. in under an hour. He also told them that they were required to be in full dress uniform, and Casey stared at Remington, trying to find out what uniform he would be in.

"Colonel, sir, your dress uniform in up front, and Major Remington, yours is in the back." The private helped Casey up from the seat, while Casey grabbed Ahman's arm. "Major?" he asked, cocking his head in bewilderment.

Remington grinned widely, and saluted the Colonel sharply, but with a British salute. "Sir, Major Ahman Remington, chaplain, Her Majesty's Royal British Army, sir." He laughed at Casey's look of amazement and clapped his friend's back. "You never asked, John, so I never had to tell."

Casey shook his head and slowly headed up front. The private helped him into his dress uniform, especially altered to allow for the cast. Casey noted his jacket was hanging a lot looser, and he realized he had dropped several pounds in the last month's mission. He stood in front of the mirror, and noted with a little pleasure how good he looked, in spite of the wounds. He used his cane to return to the seat in the main cab, watching Remington return in his uniform, the gold crosses on both shoulder applets glinting in the plane's lights. They both drew themselves up to their full height, both wincing slightly at the pain that was still a result of their wounds, and then sharply saluted each other. Ahman moved first, and he reached out to shake Casey's hand. Casey shook it hardily and then drew him into a surprising hug. "It has been an honor to serve with you, Major" Casey looked deeply into Remington's dark eyes, knowing that this man had saved his life. Remington nodded, and they both sank slowly back into their seats, and buckled up for the landing, watching the plane descend swiftly down onto the tarmac.

The plane slowed down, and the engines shut down. The private returned, opening the cabin door and waiting until the outside steps were rolled and locked into position. He then beaconed the two officers forward, helping both of them out of their seats. One after the other passed him their canes, refused any help down the steps.

Slowly, Major Remington descended to the tarmac. He looked up and was surprised that an entire line of Marine and British honor guards were standing and saluting him. Limping slowly, he passed each man and woman, smartly saluting them one after another. At the end of the line, General Diane Beckman stood rigid, her spine straight, her face hard. He stood directly in front of her, and also smartly saluted her. The General nodded, and then spoke loudly for all to hear.

"Major Ahman Remington, for bravery beyond any reasonable doubt, you hereby have been awarded the highest metal for any enlisted soldier in Her Royal Majesty's service, The Victoria Cross. The British Army and the United Sates Military Forces thank you for your incisive leadership in Operation Recovery, and your many years of service to your birth county Libya." General reached for the metal from a box a British soldier held, and she placed it over Ahman's neck. Patting the metal on his chest, she stepped forward and whispered, "Very good work, Ahman. You, dear friend, deserve this." She resumed her military pose and invited him to stand in the line to wait on the Colonel, who was stepping with great difficulty down the stairs. The lest step he almost tripped, but caught himself by tipping to the railing on the left. He grunted as his injured arm caught his body weight, but with great will, Col. John Casey stood tall and began to salute the officers that stood in the reception line. When he stood before the General, he smartly saluted her as he stared directly into her eyes.

"Lt. Colonel Johnathan Ryan Casey, for bravery beyond the call of duty, you hereby have awarded the highest metal any enlisted soldier in the Unites States of American Military Forces is given, The Medal of Honor." Casey startled in surprise at her announcement, but he stood even taller, as she placed the metal around his neck. "The United States thanks you for your incisive leadership in Operation Recovery, and to your tireless and faithful service to the National Security Agency, and the United States Marine Corp."

"Boo yah!" All the Marine Honor Guards shouted, and the civilians in the line laughed. Casey then saw Chuck, Sarah, Morgan and Alex watching the ceremony off in the background. He grinned widely, but did not release his body stance, until the General smiled. "John, this has been long overdue. For twenty some years, you have faithfully served your God and your Country with great honor and great pride. It has been an honor to serve with you, Lt. Colonel, and I believe your friends and family have waited long overdue to greet you." With one more crisp salute to both the General and Remington, Casey limped slowly over to his friends. Alex went first, reaching to hug her father, and Casey bent down, breathing deeply in her wonderful perfume.

"Oh, Alex, I love you, daughter of mine." He pulled back and wiped her tears, flowing freely from her eyes.

"Daddy, I am so proud of you. I cannot tell you how much your metal means to me, but even better is that you came back home to us. " Alex hugged him again, and she pulled on Morgan's arm to get him to approach John. Morgan was grinning too, and trying desperately to wipe away his own tears.

"John, welcome home, big guy." Morgan shock John's hand, but Casey leaned in for a quick hug. Grimes was thrilled, leaning into the the hug, trying to make it last longer, but Casey pulled back and growled, "Enough, gnome."

"Oh, man, how I have missed you, Casey." Morgan drew back and wrapped his arms instead around Alex. Chuck greeted John with a man to man hug and Sarah graced him with a kiss to his cheek.

"Walker, you keeping the kid in line?" Casey growled at her, watching his asset bouncing on his heels in brand new Converse shoes. Sarah laughed, and then confessed, "he's been the one keeping me in line. We all have had Jeffrey's flu, and Chuck has been a Godsend."

"Well, Bartowski, good job. And I see you took Greta and my advice on requisitioning for a new pair of shoes. " Casey pointed to the Converses.

Chuck laughed and held up three fingers. "Three pairs of new shoes. After the flu hit all of us, including the General, she gave up three pairs."

Casey nodded, and then looked around for someone he really needed to see. Chuck caught his arm, and patted it solidly. "John, she's waiting for you at your apartment. Something about fried chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and triple chocolate chip brownies are waiting for you there." In spite of himself, Casey's stomach growled loudly, and he commanded them all, "well, let's get moving Team Bartowski!"

Morgan took his bags, and Alex helped her dad walk back to the car. As they loaded Casey's Victoria, he stopped and called out, "Hey, Chappy, get your butt in here and come for dinner."

Remington looked up from talking with General Beckman, and he nodded vigorously. Diane pecked him on the cheek, and Ahman walked as quickly as he could to the car. Casey humphed at the strange show of affection from the General, but he handed the keys over to Morgan, and opened the passenger door to help Remington in. Alex helped her dad maneuver slowly into his back seat and Chuck and Sarah were to follow in their rig. Casey unbuttoned his jacket, and glared at Morgan. "You dent my car, and you will die."

Morgan rolled his eyes, and looked at Ahaman. "How did you put up with this pigheaded Marine all these past weeks?"

Remington laughed. "I didn't. I shot him."

Alex gasped, but Morgan laughed heartedly as he stole a glance at the stoic face of his friend in the back seat. Grimes drove the huge boat of a car confidently through the streets until they reached the apartment complex in Echo Park. He put the Crown Victoria in park, and then turned it off and helped the Arab get out of the car. As the four of them with Chuck and Sarah entered the fountain courtyard, every single apartment renter was greeting them with applause. Ellie's eyes were wet and she gave Casey a long and loving hug. Devon congratulated Casey on receiving the metal, and continued their applause for Remington also. Casey acknowledged their accolades but his eyes kept searching for her, until she appeared in the opened door to the apartment. Once again Alex helped her dad walked as swiftly as he could to Pastor Annie Coburn, whose tears were streaming from her face. Unable to hold back any longer, she surge from the apartment door and ran to her Colonel, trying hard not to knock him over.

He reached for her, his arms aching to hold her and she collapsed into his hug, his right arm reaching to pull her close to him. He bent down, and boldly kissed her, forgetting, for once, the entire courtyard of witnesses. He could not help it. He caressed her face, with both hands, straining on his shoulder, but it didn't matter to him. Again, he kissed her, growling in the taste of her, the smell of her. She just kept whispering, "thank you, Lord, thank you Lord." as they clung to each other desperately.

Finally, Casey broke it off, but still their foreheads connected, and she was petting the long hair behind his neck. "I have missed you, my dear parson." He spoke for her alone, and he pulled back to look intently, deeply into the watery pools of brown. His cobalt eyes were sharp, and he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "I need to tell you something."

Annie was still incapable of saying anything, so she just nodded enthusiastically.

"I have been waiting for your fried chicken and chocolate brownies for a month now." Annie laughed and pulled back, but he drew her once more to his chest. "But I have been waiting for you even more."

Remington limped up and clapped Casey on the shoulder. "Did I hear fried chicken? Well, woman, let me pass and get loaded up on some of your American grub." Ahman's comment broke the tension, and the impromptu party broke up, as Team Bartowski plus one entered John's apartment. Ellie and Devon begged off, saying that an official welcome home party was planned for the entire complex tomorrow evening.

Later that evening, Remington left for the hotel, Morgan and Alex for her home, and Sarah and Chuck returned to the apartment. Annie had indeed prepared a wonderful feast and she and Casey were now getting him ready for bed. She helped him out of his uniform, and set his metal tenderly and respectfully in the storage box. As he was going to the bathroom, she laid out his loose pj bottoms, and a soft t shirt. He returned, showered, but walking even more painfully then before. She gave him his pain meds, and some apple juice in a box. He smiled at the memory of Chuck defusing a nuclear bomb with a juice box juice. As she helped the Colonel into his t shirt, he grimaced at the movement of the shoulder. She paused long enough to let the pain subside, and then he nodded for her to go on with helping him get ready for bed. His king size bed had been washed, thanks to Annie, and he settled down under the covers with a huge sigh. She looked down lovingly at this amazing man, and bent to give him a kiss. He caught her arm, and deepened the kiss. "Stay with me?" his baritone rumbled.

She nodded, and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, moving the old rocking chair in the corner to the side of his bed, and she made herself comfortable. His eyes were growing heavier, and before she could speak with him again he had fallen asleep, the worry and pain lines disappearing, his face looking 10 years younger. Annie sighed deeply, laying her hand on his wonderful, strong chest, praying a prayer of healing and recovery for this soldier.

He woke only once in the night, and saw she had fallen asleep in his mother's rocker. Her brown hair was draped over her shoulders, and though she was snoring softly, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. That startled him, for it brought back vivid memories of his affair with Ilsa. But Annie was so different, so much a deeper love, that it gripped him and jolted him awake with its seriousness. His jerking woke up Annie up, and she asked him, sleepily, "Can I help you John?"

Together they made the trip together to the bathroom, and she gave him more pain medication. He noticed her bunny slippers and pointed them out to her.

"Well, Lt. Colonel, all the fashionable parsons need bunny slippers." She pirouetted into his bedroom, laughing and falling onto his mammoth bed. He limped to her and then slowly sat beside her on the bed. They were both aware of the intense tension between then and he leaned in for a deep kiss. Suddenly, it began to ramp up and they both broke away, breathing heavily.

"Dear God in heaven", Casey began, bowing his head to his chest. He then looked up at her. "I realized when I was holed up in those walls I love you, Annie, with all my heart, my life, my being." She gasped for this was the first time he had ever said that to her. He searched her face, looking for signs of any rejection. Instead he found only true understanding and love.

Instead she jumped up and down on his bed, and grabbed him for a hug. "Finally, dear Jesus, finally."

she yelped as he tried to get her to not jar his body. "John, I have loved you the moment we met in that ravine up by the cabin." Annie giggled again, and confessed "I could not say it until I knew you were in love with me."

John laughed, trying to calm her down, yawning as the pain meds kicked in. "With all my heart, with all my love, with all my very being." He yawned again, and she hopped up off the bed to help him settle under the covers. He reached out and snagged her hand. "You will not sleep in the rocker, Parson." he ordered, drawing her to his right side.

"But, John..." she hesitated, "what if you need me in the night? I will be too far away in the guest room."

He patted the left side of the bed. "Sleep here, woman." He invited, and then he looked up at her concerned face. "Annie, I love you and I respect that you do not want to have sex before marriage. I promise as a Marine and a fairly, handsome good guy, that I will not try to fondle, touch, attack, or other wise make love to you." He touched his shoulder and then his leg. "Besides, in my condition all romantic moves on my part would look more America's Funniest Home Videos. Grab your blanket and sleep on top, dear lady."

Annie laughed out loud and obeyed her friend. Slipping those silly bunny slippers off, she settled down on the left side of the bed, laying her head gently on his chest.

"You are not hurting me, Annie." He brushed her hair back, and gave her one more kiss.

Together, the quiet sounds of the night enfolded the couple. Right as Annie was about to fall asleep, John spoke up.

"But Parson, once we are married, you had better watch out. Fondling, touching, otherwise making love to you is my number one agenda." And then he promptly fell asleep. Annie gasped, as she realized he had just proposed.

Epilogue

A week later John Casey returned to the Buy More, a little sore, a little embarrassed at the attention he was getting. Morgan had told Big Mike and the staff of Buy More that John had been called out of Marine Reserve duty for a month of active duty, and had been wounded in the line of duty. Unable to do his regular job, John was relegated to the back cage to help Chuck repair computers. The two of them worked through the back log swiftly, as John revealed his computer savvy.

"Well, Casey, we are done for the day. I never realized that you could channel your inner geek." Chuck teased the big man, who was stretching his leg out, now released from the cast.

"And you will not tell any else that I did, Bartowski!" Casey ordered, and then he stiffened up as Jeff and Lester came walking back towards them.

"Barnes!" John roared out, and Jeff nearly peed his pants at the sound. Casey stood up, and limped slowly to Jeff. He clapped him on the shoulder, and said menacingly, "I understand you raided the refrigerator when I was gone and ate all the brownies Pastor Annie made for me."He emphasized the word me by thumping Jeff hard in the chest. By now, Barnes had backed into the chain linking and it was pressing uncomfortably into his back.

"Sir, yes, sir, I did steal them." Jeff shook his head emphatically.

"Well, I also understand you got violently ill over them" Casey grinned manically at the strange man before him.

"Sir, yes, sir, I did." Jeff gulped.

"Well, Barnes, my fiance felt very badly that her brownies made you sick." Casey continued to intimidate Jeff.

"Your fiance?" Lester broke in, looking sharply at Chuck who just shrugged his shoulders.

"My fiance. She made you a special batch of her brownies just for you, Barnes."

"Sir, she did, sir?" Barnes squeeked.

"She felt so bad she made you sick, so they are in your locker. But, "Casey pushed harder on Barnes' chest, and spoke even lower, "If I ever catching you stealing anyone's food from the refrigerator, I will personally break every one of your fingers, you understand, Barnes?"

"Sir, yes, sir." Barnes nodded vigorously, and as soon as John stepped back, he and Lester ran out of there to where the lockers were.

"Special ingredient, John?" Morgan had come into the storeroom, and heard the entire exchange.

"Special ingredient" Casey grunted, nodded his head curtly.

"Exlax." He stated and then limped out of there, leaving Chuck and Morgan laughing riotously.

The End

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